


Personal Demons

by LoquitorLatinae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull MiniBang 2017 Submission, Background Relationships (very minor Cullen/Trevelyan), Established Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus Relationship, M/M, Made-up Rituals, Possession, hurt/comfort elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoquitorLatinae/pseuds/LoquitorLatinae
Summary: When Dorian meets with his father in Redcliffe, Halward isn't there to reconcile: he's there to finish the job of transforming Dorian into the perfect heir. Dorian is caught in a strange ritual but after Bull and the Inquisitor come to the rescue, he believes he has escaped any lasting effects. However, when they return to Skyhold he realizes that he might not have been so lucky...





	Personal Demons

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Adoibull MiniBang 2017 (Tumblr: http://adoribullmb.tumblr.com) with beautiful accompanying art by ginogollum (ginogollum.tumblr.com)! <3
> 
> (See kink meme prompt the story is based off of in the end notes!) I realized that this has some similar plot elements as by story Rose Red but hopefully different enough to still be good. A good deal of Dorian getting hurt though, which it turns out is super hard for me to resist. Sorry Dorian.

When Evelyn had come to him with a note from Mother Giselle, Dorian had believed it all to be some sort of sick joke that was being pulled on both himself and the Inquisitor. The level of subterfuge involved in the whole matter was ridiculous, even for his father. But his incredulousness had melted away into a numb, hollow feeling when he finally read the letter. He knew his father’s handwriting and the words were his. It was as if Dorian could hear his father speak them in his ear and, despite how harmless they seemed on the surface, they made a shiver slip down his spine that had nothing to do with the ever-present chill that clung to the halls of Skyhold. His father wanted him to go to Radcliffe of all the Maker-forsaken places to meet with a representative of the Pavus house. Again, a seemingly innocent request but Dorian knew better. He had _learned_ better. While a part of him still wanted to think the best of his father, of his family, Dorian had leaned better than to trust them anymore.

So he did the only thing he could think to do to protect himself: he stamped down his pride and asked the Inquisitor to come with him. For moral support. Or in case there were a gang of ruffians awaiting him instead of a member of Halward’s staff, ready to club him over the head and drag him back to Tevinter. One of the two; he didn’t specify and Evelyn hadn’t asked. Neither did Bull when Dorian informed him that he and Evelyn were leaving for Ferelden the next day. Though he did ask to come along.

Dorian didn’t have it in him to refuse. His nerves were already on edge about the whole affair and they hadn’t even left Skyhold yet. Bull was his usual, good-natured self throughout all of Dorian’s pacing and sulking and, to reward his patience, Dorian decided to explain why he was so worked up. But only to a certain extent regarding his father’s betrayal, partially because it still stung to speak about it and partially because he was embarrassed by it. Someday he would tell Bull everything but certainly not now when Dorian might soon get tangled back up in his family’s mess. Bull knew that Dorian disliked choices his father had made in the past from a moral standpoint and that he’d rather not talk to or of the man for at least another few years. And that he’d now received a letter from his father requesting that Dorian meet with a retainer in Redcliffe. Those were the details that mattered.

Dorian could tell Bull was curious to know more but he didn’t pry for any additional details. He simply took Dorian by the hand to stop his pacing then guided him over to the well-worn bed in Bull’s room at the Herald’s Rest. “You seem nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dorian huffed out, the hand not captured in Bull’s much larger one adjusting the hem of his robe from where it had been mussed by all his stalking about. “Why would I be nervous? What a ridiculous thought.”

Bull shrugged, a slow, easy movement that finally brought Dorian’s eyes up to his face. “I dunno. But it would be alright if you were. It seems like your family’s pretty complicated.”

A sharp laugh slipped passed his lips and he shook his head. “That’s putting it nicely.”

Bull examined him for a long moment, eye warm but assessing. He wondered what he saw, if he knew just how tightly strung Dorian was over this. How now, the day before they were to leave, all he wanted to do was burn his father’s note and bury himself in his little library in the tower and forget anyone had ever seen it. He wondered if Bull could see the deep, deep scars that were threatening to open within him. If he could see how much he desperately needed to pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could handle anything his family decided to throw his way.

“If you ever want to talk about it, really talk about it, I’m here.”

Dorian knew he meant it. That he truly meant it. But the last thing he wanted was to drag this particular topic of conversation out any longer. There were certain things that he didn’t want laid bare, not now when he needed those barriers standing and strong. So he just gave Bull a wicked little smirk, even when he already knew that Bull would see right through it. “I’d rather do something else with you while you’re here.”

For half a second Bull looked like he might protest. But then he only released a short sigh and smiled. “That works for me too.”

They wasted no time in undressing each other, their fingers familiar enough with the other’s buckles and latches that their clothing was on the floor within minutes, even Dorian’s fussy robes. Bull was quite proud of the fact that he had learned to do it in the amount of time it took Dorian to wrestle Bull out of his armor and hideous shorts. But Dorian was usually able to stop his gloating with a kiss.

Bull seemed intent on taking things slow but Dorian wasn’t having it and pulled him down on top of him on the bed. Bull immediately braced himself, one hand on either side of Dorian’s head, to keep some of his weight off of Dorian but wanted it. Wanted to feel his weight. Wanted to feel Bull’s muscles and skin and heat. There was no better distraction in the world.

It wasn’t too hard to urge Bull into something rougher than the night he was planning and soon he had Dorian’s hands bound up and had him pinned just like he wanted. The bed groaned in protest as Bull thrust into him but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of Dorian’s pleasured cries. It was everything he needed—almost. “Harder! Kaffas, I won’t break, harder!”      

“Easy, Dorian. I have you.” Bull smoothed a broad hand down his chest then moved it down further to grip tightly at his hip. There was a small pinch in his brow but a smile on his face and he obeyed, his hips pistoning forward hard enough that it forced Dorian to brace his bound hands against the wall to keep himself from sliding up the mattress.

Another shout tore past Dorian’s lips and he threw his head back. “Bull, _please_!”

“Fuck! Alright, come on. Come for me Dorian!”

It only took a few more thrusts until Dorian did just that.

He came with a low groan and Bull followed soon after, the guttural sound that escaped Bull’s lips making Dorian’s toes curl in pleasure. He smiled despite his exhaustion and Bull took a few seconds to collect himself before he moved. As he slipped out, Dorian made to adjust himself on the mattress but he was stilled by a gentle hand on his shoulder and a small tisk from Bull. “Hold on, don’t move around too much. I’m going to dig up a healing potion.”

Rolling his eyes, Dorian watched as Bull leaned in to undo the bindings around his wrists once he was sure that Dorian wouldn’t leave the bed. “I’m fine, you mother hen.” It certainly wasn’t the most abuse he’d ever taken at the hands of a partner. It wasn’t even the roughest he and Bull had gotten.

“I gave you some extra bruises this time and you don’t want to be sore if you’re going to be on a horse all day tomorrow.”

“Hmph…” Dorian frowned down at his body and noted the darkening finger-shaped marks around his hips and thighs. It was difficult to tell the extent of them from this angle and in the dim light from the lantern but they didn’t look all _that_ bad.

But he knew better than to fight against it when Bull was in a mood to fuss so he simply relaxed, grudgingly drank the health potion Bull fetched for him, and let him wipe him down with a wet cloth. When Bull finished, Dorian rolled onto his side, expecting Bull to lay down beside him. But the mattress never shifted and Dorian forced his eyes back open and looked over at where Bull was sitting. There was a contemplative look in his eye that Dorian didn’t quite know how to interpret but before he could ask any questions, Bull beat him to it.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Entirely sure, thank you. Though…” A frown worked its way onto his lips and he rolled onto his back again, closer to Bull. He didn’t want to over-react and he didn’t want Bull needlessly worrying, but, “Bull, promise me one thing?”

Bull grunted lightly to show he was listening.

“I don’t know exactly what all happen but if you see someone escaping from the back of the tavern at Redcliffe with a dashing mage slung over their shoulder, kindly bash them over the head for me.”

There was a flash of something harder, like cold steel, in Bull’s eyes but it was gone nearly as soon as it showed itself. “Don’t worry.” He tossed the cloth he’d used to clean Dorian on the floor and ran his hand over Dorian’s chest. “No one will steal you away on my watch.”

Bull had kept his tone light but Dorian could tell he meant it all the same. And it was more comforting than it should have been. “Thank you. If that’s really what my father has in mind, you and Evelyn may be the only ones who can stop it from happening at this point…”

Bull’s brow furrowed again. “You really think your dad’s trying to kidnap you? I didn’t know your family was _that_ messed up.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Now,” Dorian patted the empty space on the mattress beside him, “come to bed. You’re far too energetic and I need to get some sleep before what is sure to be a day filled with drudgery in the best of circumstances.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from Bull and he lay down beside Dorian. He had to sleep on his back due to his horns but he pulled Dorian close with one strong arm that he wrapped around Dorian’s shoulders. Despite himself, a smile spread across Dorian’s lips as he felt the other press a kiss to the back of his head and they drifted off to sleep together.

 

The road to Redcliffe was shockingly uneventful, though it was probably for the best. With only himself, Bull, and Evelyn in their little traveling party, they weren’t as well-equipped for trouble as they were with the Inquisitor’s standard entourage. It was only a bit quieter though; Evelyn was an excellent traveling companion and they had enough stories to share between the three of them to fill any large bouts of silence.

They had to stop to make camp several times but they had a well-established routine and easily fell in-step with each other as they set up their tents and gathered firewood. He and Bull shared a tent while Evelyn had her own all to herself but, out of respect for their neighbor and the thin fabric of their tents, they did nothing but exchange a few lazy kisses before settling in for the night.

When they reached Redcliffe, they dismounted from their horses, stabled them for the day, and walked into the center of town. When Dorian spotted the Gull and Lantern tavern waiting for him, perched on top of its small hill, the doubts he had been trying to stamp down over the past few days reared up. He found himself unable to take another step, frozen in his spot there in the crowded courtyard. He was brought back by the feeling of a warm hand on his back.

“You alright?”

Dorian looked back and up to meet Bull’s gaze. “Of course. I was only struck by the scent of wet dog that I somehow blocked out from my memories of the place.”

The lie rolled easily off his tongue and though he was certain that both Bull and Evelyn knew it for what it was, neither called him on it. Instead, Evelyn laughed. “You probably just got used to it before. You’d been here for weeks when we met in the Chantry.”

Dorian’s lip curled up in disgust. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Those were dark days.”

“Darker than that alternative future you pulled me into?”

“ _I_ pulled you into? Hardly. But, to answer your question, yes, nearly so.”

His and the Inquisitor’s banter was interrupted by a low hum from Bull. “Hey Dorian?”

“Hm?” He turned his attention toward Bull to find a knowing little smirk on his face.

“You’re stalling.” Dorian scoffed, a denial ready on his lips, but Bull continued before he could, the playful edge to his smile softening. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. No one would think the worse of you for it.”

That brought Dorian up short again and Bull and Evelyn both allowed him a moment to work his words over in his mind. He _could_ just walk away from this. He didn’t have to get involved. Despite the subtle threats hidden in his father’s letter, would it be more bearable than actually meeting whatever aide or servant Halward had sent? But, no. He had dragged them all away from Skyhold, away from their other, more important duties. He wouldn’t waste their time or his. And it was time that he face this. He had known this was coming, that his family would chase after him eventually. If he left now, he would have to keep running. But he was strong enough now, was sure enough of himself now; he was ready.

Dorian smiled tightly up at the tavern. “I would think the worse of me for it. No, I need to do this. For me.”

Bull’s expression didn’t change much but Dorian thought he could see a spark of pride in his eye. “Alright. You want us to go with you?”

Now there was another question altogether. He should face whatever was coming alone but, “I…If I could…” Bull ran his hand over Dorian’s shoulders, soothing him, and Dorian released a breath. He didn’t know what might be said by his family’s representative and he wasn’t ready for Bull to know the sordid details of it all. At least not yet. He wanted Bull to know everything but on his terms, not on some meddling outsider’s. But, at the same time. He looked up again, not at Bull but at Evelyn “…if you, Evelyn, could come with me, it would be a comfort.” She nodded, in immediate agreement, and Dorian’s gaze darted back up to Bull. “I don’t mean it as a personal affront, Bull, it’s only that—”

Bull held up a hand. “It’s okay. No offense taken. I’d feel better about the whole thing if you took the Boss with you. In the meantime, I’ll restock our supplies in the market. I figure that we’ll want to head back out as soon as possible?”

“Maker, yes. Please.” Even if the meeting with his family’s retainer wasn’t a disaster there was no Maker-blessed reason that he would ever want to spend so much as an hour longer in Redcliffe than was necessary.

“You got it. Take good care of him, Boss.” Bull gave them both a lazy salute but before he could step away, Dorian lurched forward.

“Bull, wait.” Bull stilled and Dorian pushed himself up on his tip-toes and pressed a quick kiss to Bull’s lips. He wasn’t in general a proponent of public displays of affection but the beaming smile Bull offered him in return was worth it. “Thank you. Have I thanked you yet for letting me drag you out here?”

“You just did and you’re welcome. Let me know if you need reinforcements.”

“I’ll come running.”

He ran his hand down Bull’s jaw before forcing himself back. He wouldn’t make this another stalling technique. Though what a way to buy time. Turning from Bull, he made himself walk away and toward the tavern, his thoughts whipping wildly about in his head. He was brought back to himself by Evelyn’s voice. “Have I told you how cute the two of you are together?”

She had fallen in step beside him and he shook his head at her words. “Don’t get me any more flustered. I need to compose myself.”

“After then.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You love me.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Maker save me, I do…And I’ll owe you after this is over.”

Evelyn grinned and tucked her arm into his. “Out of all the duties I’m assigned as Inquisitor, helping my friends with their problems is a pleasure. Besides, a trip to Redcliffe is little trouble; you should hear what I did for Josie.”

“Oh ho, there’s a story there I haven’t heard yet.”

“When we get back to Skyhold, you can buy me a drink at the Herald’s Rest and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“You, my dear, have a deal.”

It was a relatively short walk to the tavern, nothing in the town too far away from another. Having a friend at his side, particularly so dear a friend, made it easier. He was almost able to relax as they walked up to the tavern but as soon as they reached the front door, he paused, his hand hovering over the door handle.

Evelyn stopped as well and tilted her head. “Dorian? What is it?”

Dorian’s brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. “It’s…nothing. It’s just quiet.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Too quiet?”

“Exactly.” Dorian hadn’t expected to find the tavern crowded. This early in the afternoon, most people had already had their lunch and were out about their business. But he couldn’t hear a single voice coming through the thick wooden door, nor the clink of ceramic, nor the sounds of boots on hardwood. “Strange…”

Reaching down, he tested the handle and, when he found the door unlocked, cautiously pushed it open. He and Evelyn peered in together, leaning in over the threshold to take in as much of the room as they could. Just as he thought, it was entirely abandoned. There wasn’t even anyone behind the bar.

But, no, this wasn’t so very strange, was it? While out of place for a Ferelden tavern, this had the mark of Tevinter politics all over it. The Pavus household wouldn’t risk anyone being around to overhear any private conversation. He wondered how they had done it. Hopefully the staff of the tavern had been paid off rather than threatened into disappearing.

Tisking under his breath, Dorian held a hand out in front of Evelyn. “Stay behind me.” The last thing he wanted was for her to be caught up in any more trouble on his behalf. No member of his family’s staff would dare touch so much as a hair on his head but Evelyn, Inquisitor though she was, might not be treated with the same deference.

Wishing he had thought to bring his staff with him—and why in the Maker’s name hadn’t he?—Dorian cautiously stepped inside. He took each step as if there was an unseen trap waiting right before him because for all he knew there might be. Evelyn followed close behind, her whole body drawn up tense as a bowstring, but they made it into the center of the tavern’s front room without mishap. Narrowing his eyes, Dorian looked around for any hint of what might be waiting for them further inside.

When a shadow shifted along one of the halls leading to a backroom, Dorian’s gaze snapped to it. He thought spotting them quickly would give him an upper hand but nothing would have prepared him for the sight of none other than his father stepping out to greet them. It was so surreal, so entirely beyond what Dorian was expecting, that it didn’t even quite seem real until he spoke.

“Dorian…”

Dorian swallowed hard at his father’s greeting. He already sounded mildly disappointed. “Father.”

“Dorian?” His name coming from Evelyn reminded him that she was there and he held a hand up to quiet her though his eyes never left his father’s. His mind was racing a hundred miles a minute but not a single thought solidified enough for him to verbalize it.

He couldn’t ever remember Halward leaving Tevinter for anything before. He had people for that. Traveling carried risks and as a Magister he naturally had a rather large target on his back. With his past associations with Alexius, even more so. And yet, here Halward Pavus stood, in a dirty tavern in a back-wood Ferelden village instead of the gilded halls of the Magisterium.

Halward came closer, only stopping about five feet from Dorian, close enough to see even the slightest sign of weakness from Dorian but not close enough to touch. Somewhat symbolic of his entire childhood. There was something strange in his expression though. He almost seemed…contrite.

“It is…good to see you again.”

 

Bull made short work of buying some extra supplies for their ride back to Skyhold then took up a post across the square from the tavern. Far enough away that no one could accuse him of trying to eavesdrop but close enough that he had a decent view of the building. He would notice if anyone tried to slip out the back.

When Dorian said that he might be kidnapped by his father’s people, Bull had sensed that he had only been half joking. Dorian could get worked up over unnecessary things sometimes but he wasn’t one to be paranoid without cause. There was definitely more to all this than what Dorian had told him. He respected Dorian’s need to keep some things private—because didn’t they all have pasts they didn’t want to remember?—but if any part of Dorian thought he was in actual danger, Bull was going to take that seriously. He had lost a lot of things in his life but Dorian had wormed his way onto the short list of people that he would fight to keep.

He had expected to wait a while, maybe a couple of hours, so was surprised when he saw the Boss slip out of the front door of the tavern less than half an hour later and make her way down the stairs. There was a concerned frown on her face but her pace was steady and she seemed calm. Good. No emergencies then. But since she had come out without Dorian, something was up.

She caught sight of him shortly after—not a surprise, he was hard to miss even in a crowd—and she walked over to him. Bull was usually able to be patient but when Dorian was involved with shady shit like this he wasn’t in the mood to wait for answers. “What happened?”

“Nothing, yet.” Her frown deepened. “It just wasn’t who we expected to find. It was Dorian’s father waiting for him.”

“Shit…” He didn’t know everything about it but he knew that Magister Pavus wasn’t Dorian’s favorite person. “Is he handling it alright?”

“He seems to be handling it as well as could be expected given what happened between them.”

That caught his attention. But he kept his tone casual but was instantly focused in on her every word and her body language. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“Just now. Not the details, but enough. But it’s not my place to tell you, I’m sorry.” He hid his disappointment and nodded. Whatever it was, it was bad. He could tell by the stiffness in her shoulders. “But Dorian wanted to speak with him alone. I’m sure they have a lot to talk about and his father actually seemed to want to make amends.”

“How long do you think they’ll be?”

“I couldn’t say. It might be a while.”

As if on cue, the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Bull’s eye snapped up to the tavern and watched as all the windows in the front room seemed to explode out in a blast of a familiar purple magic. Evelyn had whipped around too and before all the glass even hit the ground she was already running back towards the tavern. “Or maybe not. Let’s go!”

Bull was right at her heels as she raced back up to the tavern. Evelyn nearly crashed into the front door but when she tugged on the handle it wouldn’t budge. “Damn! It’s locked! Bull?”

No way a door was going to stand between him and Dorian. “Stand back!”

He took a few steps back himself then charged the door. It was a thick wood but with a deafening _crack_ the door snapped right of its hinges and slammed to the floor inside the tavern. He stepped over the broken wood and Evelyn slipped past him. “Dorian?!” The room was empty but half of the chairs were knocked on their sides and those that were still standing were knocked back away from the tables, likely from that blast that had taken out the windows.

Evelyn’s question was answer by a strangled scream echoing out and Bull’s attention zeroed in on a hallway that led to the back of the tavern. “Back room, go!”

What they found waiting for them nearly stopped Bull in his tracks. The back room of the tavern had been nearly emptied out and a sigil had been drawn on the wooden floor with what looked to be blood. And Dorian was suspended in the air above it, his body straining against invisible bonds, while a demon, a fucking _demon_ , stood in front of him, the thing only inches away from Dorian. Hooded figures stood around the edges of the Circle, chanting in Tevene, but Bull and Evelyn bursting in interrupted them and they went silent.

Instantly everything fell apart.

The demon screeched then seemed to disintegrate, the smoke washing over Dorian who collapsed to the ground a second later, limp as a rag doll. One of the hooded figures issued a quick “Kill them!” in Tevene before turning tail and running. For half a second Bull considered chasing after him so that not one of the bastards would escape. But the others started forward and he knew that Evelyn wouldn’t be able to defend herself against all of them alone so he rushed toward them with an angry roar.

He didn’t have his battle axe but he didn’t need it. Every time he caught sight of Dorian, sprawled out with blood from the sigil he had landed on smeared on his white robes, it made him see red. Suddenly everything was a weapon: a chair, a dead man’s staff, his fists, his horns. Evelyn was holding her own on the other side of the room but it was nothing to the carnage that surrounded him. There had been nearly a dozen of the mages but in less than five minutes not one of them remained standing.

Bull hadn’t realized he had fallen into a reaver blood-lust until he was brought back to himself by the sound of Evelyn’s voice. “Bull! _Bull!_ Check on Dorian!”

Right, Dorian! Dorian. Where was Dorian?

Spinning around, he reoriented himself then stepped over the bodies between himself and where Dorian was lying. He lowered himself to the ground beside him, heedless of the mess around him, and pulled Dorian into his lap, his hands methodically skimming over the other’s body to check for wounds. But, no, none of the blood on the ground had come from him and he was breathing. His eyes were still closed though and his face drawn up in a pained grimace.

Swearing under his breath, Bull slid his hands up to rest on either side of Dorian’s face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his cheeks. “Hey there, big guy. Open your pretty eyes for me.”

His touch seemed to bring Dorian back a bit then, with a bone-deep shudder, he lurched up in Bull’s arms, eyes wild as they flew open. “Father! My, my father—”

“Easy, Dorian.” Evelyn had been going around pulling off the dead men’s hoods but looked up at that and shook her head. Halward Pavus wasn’t among them. He must’ve been the one that ran out. “He’s gone. You alright?”

Dorian sucked in a deep breath and shakily lowered himself back down onto Bull’s lap. “I, I don’t know.”

Bull brushed back his hair so he could see Dorian’s face better. That wasn’t an answer he expected to hear and it had him worried. “Do you know what he was trying to do?”

Dorian stared straight ahead and Bull almost thought he hadn’t heard him until he rasped out a dry, “Yes.”

Bull frowned. That was it? No details? No explanation? He opened his mouth to get more information but Evelyn chose then to make her way over. He could tell she was worried too and she couched down beside them, her attention solely on Dorian. “How’s he doing?”

Pulling Dorian a little closer, Bull grunted. “He’s awake.”

“Is that our high bar now? Dorian, how are you feeling?”

Dorian groaned as he was directly addressed, as if he had been hoping not to have to talk at all which was unlike him. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good. Are you in pain?”

One of his hands reached up and squeezed Bull’s arm. “Quite a bit of it.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“It feels like I’m burning up and being…twisted.” Bull swore again at his answer. He knew something about setting broken bones and relaxing sore muscles but this sounded like something way beyond his skill level.

Evelyn must have felt the same because she gave a firm nod. “Alright, I’ve heard enough. Let’s get you to a healer. Can you stand?”

But Bull had already gathered Dorian up in his arms and was standing, his bad knee only giving slight protest. “I’ve got him, Boss.”

It earned him a gasp from Dorian and he weakly smacked his shoulder. “You brute. Let me down…!”

“You’re not trying all that hard.” And he was also pretty sure that Dorian wouldn’t be able to walk more than a few steps in his condition.

Together, they rushed Dorian to the local healer who operated his business from a ramshackle house adjacent to the Chantry. Bull knew that Dorian really was in bad shape when he didn’t muster up a single complaint, the only sound escaping him a low groan as Bull lowered him onto the cot. The way his hand weakly gripped Bull’s wrist as he straightened tugged at his heartstrings but he forced himself back as the healer bustled forward. He stayed in the room as he worked though. He wanted to make sure that he did things right. And after what he’d seen, he wasn’t going to put it past Halward to have paid off some of the locals to do his dirty work for him. He knew how Vints like him worked. But maybe Halward thought his son would never sink so low as to be attended by a village healer because, though his hands were rougher than the healers in Skyhold, he didn’t do anything unexpected or threatening.

Dorian seemed to be barely conscious the entire time he was examined but every few moments his gaze would focus on Bull and Bull would offer him what he hoped as a comforting smile. He had to be as calm and strong as Dorian needed. Even if inside he felt like he wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands. Again.

After his inspection, Bull watched as the healer prepared a potion and had Dorian drink it. Dorian tried to spit it out at first—it probably tasted like piss—but the man was gently insistent and was able to get most of it down. When Dorian settled back down onto the cot, the healer waved Bull and Evelyn to the far side of the room. “I’m sorry, there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong with him. He may be experiencing some sort of anxiety attack that’s extreme enough to cause physical distress. I’ve given him a relaxant to try and calm him and hopefully it will make him feel better.”

Evelyn nodded and gave the man a handful of coins. “Thank you.” It was easily three times what his normal fee should be but she was generous and the Inquisition had enough gold in its coffers to spend, especially on causes such as this.

The healer looked awestruck for a moment then, after thanking the Inquisitor repeatedly, made himself scarce. Which was for the best, because they had things to talk about. Evelyn clearly thought the same because the man had barely left the room and closed the door behind him before she spun on her heels and pinned Bull with a look. “What do you think?”

Bull growled under his breath and he couldn’t keep his gaze from moving back over to where Dorian lay on the cot. He kept his voice low though. Dorian’s eyes were closed but Bull was pretty sure that he was still awake, despite the potion the healer gave him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…And I think Dorian knows more than he’s saying, which makes me nervous. He knows better than to keep quiet if he’s actually injured.”

“He can be stubborn sometimes.”

“Yeah…” But he was proud; he wasn’t stupid. He had been in bad shape, was _still_ in bad shape, and he wouldn’t willingly let himself be a burden on anyone. Bull’s frown deepened as he finally voiced a fear that had been kicking around in his head since they had found Dorian. “I’m worried that there is some demon shit involved. We interrupted something and it wasn’t good. I think Dorian knows what it’s about but wouldn’t tell me.”

Evelyn hummed in agreement and she looked thoughtfully back over her shoulder at Dorian. Then, as if coming to a decision after a mental debate, gave a nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of it. I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

“I know. Thanks Boss.”

 

Dorian blinked his eyes open and stared groggily up at the ceiling. The pain he’d been feeling had faded away into an uncomfortable numbness. It was preferable, yes, but it felt like his head was filled with a fog he couldn’t shake which was a problem because he knew he needed to think about what just happened. But it was as if his thoughts wouldn’t quite connect properly, drifting one to the next like wisps.

He would’ve been much more upset about the whole thing except he could hear familiar voices drifting over from somewhere to his left. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he knew the pitch and cadence as well as his own: it was Bull, and Evelyn. And if they were nearby, he knew he was in good hands.

His sense of time was a bit skewed but what only felt a few minutes later he noticed someone was approaching and turned to see Evelyn at his bedside. She smiled down at him and, though there was a tightness around her eyes, Dorian attempted to smile back. “It’s good to see you’re awake. How are you feeling now?”

“…Like I’m floating.” And his tongue felt a bit thick in his mouth. What had that man given him? And who was he? “Where are we?”

“At a healer’s in Redcliffe. You’re safe.” It was difficult to believe but she did seem very sure about it.  When Dorian nodded, she continued. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“Hmm…” Dorian released a weak laugh but instantly regretted it as it made something deep inside him pull uncomfortably beneath the numbness. “…Coming at me while my inhibitions are down, are you?”

“You forced my hand. Now, Dorian, Bull says you know more about this than you’re saying. If that’s true, I’m going to insist that you tell me. If something’s wrong, I need to know; I can’t have the safety of one of my best mages threatened.”

That earned her a small be genuine smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Evelyn…But, to answer your question,” Dorian furrowed his brow, focusing on putting his thoughts together properly, “I’m not entirely sure myself what might have happened. Most of it was a blur…I’m afraid that only time may tell…I should know within a day or so. Nothing hugely alarming yet.”

“Aside from the pain?”

“Yes, aside from that.”

“What can we do to help?”

Dorian sighed and closed his eyes again. “I want to go back to Skyhold.” Right now, all he wanted was to be back in his own bed—or Bull’s—with the blankets pulled up and a good book and a better glass of wine. And if the worst were to happen, whatever that may be, he refused to be stuck in Redcliffe of all places to suffer through it.

“You’re in no condition to ride.”

Fair enough. If he could barely think straight, he probably shouldn’t be in charge of a horse. “After this,” he waved vaguely as his head, “wears off then…”

“Then, yes. We’ll go straight to Skyhold. I think I can speak for myself and Bull when I say we’re just as anxious to get home.”

It was decided that they would stay the night to ensure that there were no side effects from Dorian’s medicine. Or, conversely, to ensure that he would be healthy enough to travel once they wore off. Dorian had tried to convince Bull and Evelyn to get a room at the local inn but they both insisted on fetching extra cots and camping out in the healer’s…hut with him. Which was absolutely ridiculous because they were going to be as exhausted as he was tomorrow. Even if it did lend a certain comfort to have them nearby when he was feeling so out of sorts. Bull moved his cot close enough so that he could reach across the small span separating them and hold Dorian’s hand and it was so teeth-rottingly sweet that Dorian would certainly have balked at it if he hadn’t so desperately needed the contact.

The next morning was difficult but he was fit enough to ride and they made short work of putting Redcliffe behind them. Bull and Evelyn were overly-gentle with him while pretending that they were doing nothing of the sort and though it was annoying it seemed to help. All their attentions and insistence that Dorian take it easy as they traveled allowed him the time to recover and, while he never felt quite right, he was able to pretend like he was back to normal by the dawn of the third day.

Nevertheless, seeing Skyhold emerge from the snowy mountain passes was like a breath of fresh air and Dorian was finally able to relax. He hadn’t let the true extent of his fear that something would…go awry show on the journey home. Not to say that he’d lied to Evelyn back in Redcliffe, but the truth of it was that even he didn’t know exactly what had happened in the tavern. He had been half-conscious for most of it and the first clear memory he had after being jumped was waking up in Bull’s arms. The only things that existed between the two were flashes—faces, colors, sensations of pain—nothing enough to base an accurate diagnosis off of. He’d been afraid that he wouldn’t be himself but so far there were no signs that anything was amiss.

The three of them dispersed once they rode in through the gates: Evelyn went off to consult with her advisors to see if she missed any important news, Bull went to the tavern to check in with the Chargers, and Dorian went straight to his room and took a nap after lying and saying that he had letters to write. He woke up three hours later, put himself back together, and forced himself from his private room before anyone came looking for him. Having neglected his research of late, Dorian knew he should get back to it but, now that he had rested he wasn’t feeling much like tucking himself away in his little nook in the tower, as comfortable as it was. So instead he let his feet carry him to the friendly faces at the Herald’s Rest.

Bull was right where he always sat at his table in the corner with the Chargers gathered around him. They welcomed him with a round of good-natured teasing, though no one brought up the disastrous trip to Redcliffe. Either Bull hadn’t told them anything or he had and then expressed the need for silence. Dorian hoped it was the former but was surprised to realize that he wouldn’t be all that bothered if it were the later. The Chargers had seen him get into a few tricky situations before, though none quite so personal.

After a round of drinks, Dorian found himself sitting off to the side of the group with Bull’s arm slug casually over his shoulders. It was nice to be back in familiar, comfortable territory but he cringed when he thought about his behavior over the past few days; he hadn’t recovered as quickly as he wanted and it was rather embarrassing.

Bumping his shoulder against Bull’s, Dorian looked up from the mug of Ferelden ale he pretended to hate. “I’m sorry I’ve been in a mood lately.” He wasn’t all that friendly on the ride back to Skyhold and immediately going off on his own once they got back hadn’t been particularly social.

Shaking his head, Bull ran his hand up and down Dorian’s back. “Well, your own dad did try to turn you into a demon’s meat puppet. I think anyone would feel a bit out of it for a few days after that.”

Dorian blew out a breath. “It’s not as if it was the first time…”

“What?”

Bull’s tone was still relaxed but he had answered a bit too quickly and had tensed around him. Sighing, Dorian covered the churning in his stomach by lifting a brow and giving a nonchalant shrug. After what had happened, it was time to tell Bull. Especially since Evelyn knew now. And it was easier with a pint of ale already in his system. Bull kept quiet as Dorian told him what happened. From all the little warning signs he hadn’t noticed to that night his father had called him into his study and tried to force the changes he wanted Dorian to make to how he’d fled once he escaped the failed ritual. It was difficult to get the words out but it was also strangely freeing. Evelyn had found out tanks to his father but this was the first time Dorian had ever willingly detailed the whole affair to another and it was as if a weight lifted off his shoulders. It made up a bit for the past few days. He swore to himself that he would never let his guard down around his father again, knowing what he was capable of, and yet he had done just that the very next time the man re-entered his life. Heaving a self-deprecating sigh, Dorian took a long drink from his mug and shook his head. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

When Bull finally spoke, there was a growl in his voice that Dorian rarely heard. “It’s not going to happen a third time. At least not as long as I’m around.”

“Going to protect me, are you?” A smile flickered onto Dorian’s face as he realized that sometime during his story Bull’s grip on him had tightened. “The big, strong Iron Bull protecting a weak, defenseless mage?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you weak or defenseless. But me being overprotective is just something you should be used to by now.”

“I suppose so.” The roughness had faded from Bull’s voice and when Dorian looked up at him they smiled at each other. “I approve of it. Just this once.”

“Good.”

Dorian and Bull kept each other close until Dorian excused himself around midnight. The Chargers were still in full swing but, despite his nap, Dorian was ready for bed. He went back to his own room to avoid the noise of the tavern and fell asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.

When he woke at dawn, he dragged himself down for breakfast then to where he should have gone yesterday: his small section of the tower library to continue his research. He was able to get several hours of work done, losing himself in arcane tomes and translations, before he realized that something was off. Yesterday, he had been exhausted, but that was easily explained away by traveling. Today, he had no such excuse. But it wasn’t exactly exhaustion that he was feeling. He felt wrung dry but it was if he was also still partially asleep because his senses seemed to be playing tricks on him. Things sounded off, as if they had an echo when they had no business sounding as such, and while he could read the text he was starting to see little somethings in his peripheral vision. Like, there—!

A strange light flashed in the corner of his eye but when he whipped around to look there was nothing except empty air. Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Odd…” He had strained his eyes before to the point where shadows began to shift on him but whatever that had been was different. It had been…some sort of shape of colored light. Almost like a warping of the air. The closest thing he could compare it to were the rifts Evelyn had been closing across Thedas. But certainly a rift wasn’t about to manifest here in the tower?

His eyes flashed to the scholars in the other section of the library. No one else was looking. No one else appeared to have noticed anything amiss. Which was…only mildly reassuring.

Dorian rose from his armchair and made his way over to the railing; there was one sure-fire test he needed to run. “Solas?”

The elf ignored him for a beat but when Dorian kept his post at the railing, Solas sighed and drawled out. “How unusual of you to greet me instead of throwing books at my head. What do you want, Dorian?”

“Have you…noticed anything different about the tower today?”

“What are you going on about?” Solas finally looked up at him—and up at the space Dorian had seen the anomaly—but there was no shock in his eyes, no alarm or confusion. Just a vague sort of annoyance that he had long since mastered.

“Nothing,” Dorian quickly responded. “I just thought someone rearranged the furniture.”

“No. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, some of us have important research to do.”

“Right.” Usually that sort of jab would spark an argument between them that would last at least twenty minutes but Dorian suddenly had a new research topic. Barring the idea that he was hallucinating due to some natural ailment, he potentially had a problem.

A cold fear gripped him. He potentially had a very serious problem.

Swallowing, Dorian turned and mechanically walked himself over to the book shelves, having to focus on each step to keep himself from freezing up. He couldn’t panic. Couldn’t panic yet, anyway. It was all theory. He had no proof of anything. Exhaustion, a hallucination or two, these were symptoms that could have multiple causes. No need to immediately jump to the worst conclusions. No need to sound any alarms.

Dorian pursed his lips and skimmed a finger over the spines of a row of books before finding what he was looking for and plucked it from the shelf: _Possessions and Abominations_. It was written by a member of the Southern Chantry and thus was a bit backwards in many of its base premises but it had some promise. He kept his movements easy so as not to attract attention and wandered back over to his chair.

But it was so difficult to shake the sense of fear now that it had been planted in his brain.

Everything felt _wrong_.

Reading grew harder and harder and soon it was nearly impossible to focus on the text. There was a migraine building behind his eyes and finally it grew so piercing that he became nauseous. The world swam as he finally tore his eyes away from the pages and closed them while he fought back the need to vomit. He had to take several deep breaths before he felt steady enough to open his eyes again but when he did he had to set the book aside. Was this another sort of hallucination? No. No, with everything going on, what if it was—?

Dorian shook the thought away. His eyes were tired. That was that. He had been reading too much and all he needed was a break. And he knew the perfect solution.

Leaving the tower, Dorian drew in the crisp mountain air as he walked along the battlements. He nodded at the soldiers he passed and they nodded or gave him a loose salute in return. They had been wary of him at first but once Dorian and their Commander developed a friendship they had warmed up to him.

Reaching the door to Cullen’s office, Dorian knocked out of courtesy then swept inside. Cullen looked up from his desk and smiled at the sight of him. “Dorian, it’s good to see you.” His smile fell away a bit. “I heard that you had a difficult outing.” Dorian felt himself blanch and Cullen quickly raised a hand, “I don’t know the details. The Inquisitor knew it wasn’t her place to say and I won’t pry.”

He should have expected that Evelyn would have to report something back to her advisors regarding her trip. Especially Cullen. Managing a nod, Dorian leaned back against the doorframe. “Thank you, Commander. I don’t suppose I can tempt you with a game?”

He motioned toward the chess board tucked away in the corner of the room and Cullen’s eyes lit up. “I suppose I’m due for a short break.”

Cullen picked up his chess board and they walked down to their traditional location of choice for their game. The garden was in full bloom and another beautiful distraction as they sat down at a table to play. Dorian let Cullen set up the pieces and insisted he take his turn first. They passed a few rounds in silence before Cullen spoke, his gaze flickering up from the board to Dorian’s. “Evelyn told me a bit about what happened. Again, none of the details but…well, I’m sorry something like that happened to you.”

Smiling wryly, Dorian redirected his own gaze to his pieces which were slowly being decimated by Cullen’s. He had a feeling the other was going easy on him. “It certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

“No, it’s not.”

Dorian’s eyes bounced back up to meet Cullen’s. “Spoken like a man who’s been through it?” He knew nearly nothing of Cullen’s past prior to the incident in Kirkwall. He had heard rumors and had his suspicions but Cullen had never spoken of it himself and Dorian had never asked. He liked who Cullen was now and, based on what he did know to be true, he wasn’t certain that he would’ve liked who Cullen used to be.

The corner of Cullen’s lips quirked up and he tilted his head. “Not exactly but, similar enough. I’ll admit, you’re handling it much better than I did.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, Cullen. I’m still adjusting. A breakdown may yet be in my future.”

“Give yourself time for things to settle.”

Dorian hummed at the advice but said nothing. It would be good for those who were healing. He just wasn’t sure anymore that he fit into that category. They played for a while more and Dorian felt himself beginning to relax again. There was a reason he had chosen to go to Cullen. He had a steadying presence, much like Bull did, and as an ex-Templar he had certain experiences with things. The fact that he didn’t sense anything around Dorian was reassuring.

It was reassuring at least until they neared the end of their game. Dorian didn’t notice anything was amiss at first because it wasn’t like before. His vision remained clear and focused but when he leaned his head back to sigh as Cullen made a particularly devastating move he realized that they were alone. Which meant that the whispering he had been hearing for the past few minutes wasn’t coming from the courtyard around them. Straightening up, Dorian turned to scan the gardens but, when he confirmed that they were the only people in the garden, he turned back to Cullen. “Do you hear that?”

Cullen looked up, confused. “Hear what?”

It wasn’t like Cullen not to notice something that was there. Outwardly, Dorian maintained his composure as panic flared back up in his chest, tight and choking. “Hmm…” Swallowing around his fear, Dorian waved a dismissive hand, “Probably just some new southern bird I haven’t heard yet.”

Cullen frowned but accepted his answer. Too soon, he had won the game. The whispers building in Dorian’s ears thoroughly distracted him from any sort of counter strategy he may have been able to muster. As he packed up the board, Cullen smiled at Dorian, “If you ever want to lose another game, you know where to find me.”

It was a struggle to maintain a sense of normalcy but Dorian succeeded. “Don’t look so smug, I win some of them.”

“Only when you cheat.”

“Come now, I never cheat.”

It was familiar banter and Dorian desperately needed it. Cullen seemed to sense that at least and they smiled at each other before rising from their seats. “Thank you for the break, Dorian. Take care of yourself until I see you next. Oh, and tell the Chargers to stop destroying all the training dummies. We have to make those things, you know, and my soldiers need them to train too.”

“I’m not their keeper.”

“You’re the next closest thing.”

“Lies and slander, Commander.”

Once he and Cullen parted ways, the whispers abruptly stopped. He reluctantly returned to the tower though he didn’t dare pick up the book on demonic possessions again. Instead, he went back to researching Corypheus’s origins and things were better. But they still weren’t good. The whispers and migraines didn’t return but the swirls of colored light he’d catch in the corner of his eyes did. For the last few hours the twists of light were growing more intense and greener in color. The tears or rifts—whatever they were—were expanding and he could feel the pull from the Fade against his magic now every time they appeared. He knew he should tell Evelyn but he didn’t even know what he would tell her.

That night, Dorian didn’t bother with the song and dance he and Bull still occasionally played with each other at night, as if they weren’t both sure that they would fall into bed together just like every other night. Instead he just marched straight up to Bull’s room in the tavern and let himself in. He had dressed down before arriving and only had one outer robe to strip off before he was able to fall onto the bed in his under garments.

Bull, sitting at his desk in the corner, watched the whole thing with an amused but mildly concerned arch to his brow. Figuring he owed the other some sort of explanation, Dorian rolled over onto his side. “It’s been a very long day.”

“Looks like it.” Bull smiled indulgently and nodded. “Go ahead and get settled, I just need a couple more minutes.”

Having been granted full permission, Dorian rolled back over and burrowed himself beneath Bull’s blanket. It smelled like him and where once upon a time the scent had been repulsive it was now a comfort.

Bull was true to his word and didn’t linger at his desk. Dorian listened as his quill scratched across paper then stilled before Bull capped his ink bottle. He didn’t look up as the chair was pushed back across the floor and Bull walked across the room, the wooden boards creaking beneath his feet, but Dorian did smile when the bed dipped as Bull sat down to remove what was left of his clothing. Given the day he had, he didn’t think he had ever appreciated having Bull close more than he did now. When Bull lay down, Dorian nestled up against his side, pillowing his head on Bull’s shoulder. He meant to say something to Bull but the idea of going to sleep without any more worrying or fussing was just too tempting. So he pressed a kiss against Bull’s skin instead and let himself drift off to sleep.

He woke less than an hour later. The whispers were back. He tried to ignore them but it was impossible. Earlier, with Cullen, he hadn’t been able to understand the words. But they were louder and every other syllable was intelligible and it was maddening. He covered his ears with his hands beneath the blankets but it didn’t do any good, it was just as loud. It was in his head. Freeing a hand from his cocoon of blankets, he had just stretched out a hand to wake Bull when a growl rolled through the air.

 _You’re mine_.

Dorian’s eyes snapped open and there, standing in the corner of the room, was a demon, it’s red eyes blazing in the darkness.  Shouting, Dorian threw himself back, rolling over Bull and falling hard onto the wooden floor. Bull was instantly awake and managed to catch Dorian’s arm as he fell, keeping Dorian from hitting his head on the floor like he had his ass. “Dorian! What happened?”

Reaching up, Dorian gripped tight onto Bull’s arm with his other hand, knuckles white as he hauled himself up. “I, I saw…There’s a demon!”

Bull’s gaze sharpened and he whipped around though his grip never loosened on Dorian. “Where?”

“There! Behind you!” Clamoring back up onto the bed, Dorian peered over Bull’s shoulder at the corner where he had seen it only to find the space empty. His mouth fell open and he swallowed before looking back at Bull. “It…it looked like a pride demon.”

“There’s nothing there anymore.”

“Check outside!”

Dorian almost called Bull back as he slipped out of bed. Bull grabbed his battle axe from its stand by the door and Dorian held still, afraid to move so much as a muscle, as Bull opened the door. He was only able to draw breath again when Bull turned back into the room. “It’s clear.” Though his grip never loosened on his axe.

Dorian spiraled into his own thoughts. He didn’t know why he had told Bull to check outside. He _knew_ it wasn’t outside. There was nothing even inside the room, it was inside his head! A deep, rasping laugh echoed between his ears and Dorian spun around on the bed desperately looking for something, anything, but, no. No, it was true.

“Dorian?”

Dorian jumped as a hand touched his arm, not having heard Bull approach. He’d put his axe down along the way and, kaffas, even made it back onto the bed without Dorian noticing. Hadn’t he just been at the door a moment ago? How many seconds had he missed? Where had they gone? “Bull…I think there’s something wrong with me.” He couldn’t keep a tremor from his voice but he was frightened. He hadn’t been this frightened in a long time and he hated the feeling just as much as how it brought back memories from the last time he’d felt this way.

Bull’s voice broke through the chaos building in his head. “Nah, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just tired.”

He squeezed Dorian’s arm hard, imploringly, but Dorian could only shake his head. “I’m not. I mean, I am tired, yes, but that’s not what this is. Bull…this isn’t the first thing that I’ve seen, or heard. I, I think that ritual had a lasting effect. I think I’m carrying a demon with me.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Dorian pressed his eyes shut against the desperate optimism in Bull’s gaze. In return, he felt Bull move closer on the bed, his other hand moving to run through Dorian’s hair. “You probably just hit your head when you fell back in Redcliffe. Gave yourself a concussion that’s messing with your senses. It happens sometimes…But, whatever this is, we’ll get it figured out…" He paused for half a beat. "Do you want me to go get the Boss?”

“What?” Dorian’s eyes opened again at the question and he shook his head again. “No, no, it’s far too late…” After the debacle the trip to Redcliffe had turned into, he didn’t know if his pride could bear to rouse the Inquisitor from her bed in the dead of night, especially when all of his symptoms were in his head. But, “You’re sure you didn’t see anything?”

“No. No demons here.”

He sounded so entirely sure of that fact that Dorian let himself believe it. Just for a moment. “Then let’s get some rest. I’ll run crying to the Inquisitor tomorrow morning.”

Bull looked relieved. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against Dorian’s forehead. “I can do the crying if you want.”

That forced a laugh from Dorian. It felt too raw but left a small smile in its wake that kept him from tipping into hysterics. “We can trade off.”

Bull hummed his agreement then wrapped Dorian up in his arms and pulled them back to the bed. Dorian let himself be manhandled until Bull had him positioned just so, partially on top of him, partially pressed tight against his side, then shut his eyes and thought of nothing at all until he was able to fall back asleep.

The next time Dorian woke, it was to Bull gently shaking his shoulder. He blearily blinked his eyes open and glared over at Bull through this mussed hair. “What is it?” It was still dark and he was still exhausted and wasn’t happy about being woken up when sleep seemed such a precious commodity. But his annoyance faded away as he took in Bull’s expression.

There was a serious frown on his face and a worried look in his eye and Dorian immediately knew something was wrong.

“You were talking to yourself.”

“Mm, really? Hopefully I didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”

“No, not embarrassing. But it didn’t sound like you.”

Dorian shakily brushed his hair back from his face as he attempted a joke. “Was I professing my love for Ferelden fashion?”

“No.” Bull’s voice was low and steady and it was only then Dorian realized just how scared Bull was. “It wasn’t what you were saying, it was your voice. It wasn’t yours.”

“Ah…” Dorian swallowed hard. He knew what Bull meant: the demon was speaking through him. “Did it speak to you?”

“I think it was talking to you.”

Dorian ran his hand down his face then slammed it down onto the pillow. “Kaffas…I thought that was just a dream.” He had been in the Fade and had been facing down a Pride demon. It was so different from any spirit interaction he’d had in the past that he thought it had been a nightmare brought about by seeing the demon in Bull’s room but, no, apparently it had been an actual conversation. Only it hadn’t happened in the Fade, it had happened in his head. Or, out loud.

Bull was quiet for a long moment. Then he slowly, methodically took Dorian’s hand in his, his fingers drawing over the lines on his palm before interlacing their fingers together. “So this is really happening, huh? You have a demon in you?”

“So it would seem.”

“How do we fix it?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Bull breathed out through his nose then shook his head, a tight, aborted motion. “I hate this shit…”

Dorian knew he did. It meant something that Bull was even still willing to hold his hand. “I can’t say I’m a fan either.”

Bull was quiet for another long moment. Dorian hadn’t seen him like this since the Storm Coast and as worried as he was for himself, he worried for Bull too. “Why did it only show up once we got back to Skyhold?”

Dorian raised a brow at that. It was a good question, one had hadn’t thought to ask yet. “I couldn’t say for certain. If it’s in me, it can probably see everything I can. Share my experiences, if you will. I had my guard up while we were travelling, afraid of this sort of thing, but I relaxed once we were safely back in Skyhold. Perhaps it took that for a weakness. Or maybe it just found this to be the best way to hurt me…” He certainly had more to lose here. More to ruin.

“We need to talk to Evelyn.”

Dorian sighed. “Agreed.” He needed to figure this out, quickly, before it was too late.

Bull must have seen something in his face because his expression softened and he gently urged Dorian back to the mattress. “…Let’s try and get a few more hours of sleep.”

“But what if—?”

“If you start talking again, I’ll wake you up and we can go straight to the Boss. Right now, you need the rest. Being exhausted isn’t going to do you any good.”

Dorian knew Bull would keep his word. He was a light sleeper, as had already been proven twice that night, and it was a small comfort. And he was still so tired.

He didn’t even remember closing his eyes.

He just remembered being swallowed by darkness.

When Dorian woke for the third and final he felt…off. Like his skin was tight and dry, as if he’d spent a month in the Hissing Wastes without his moisturizer, which was a terrible fate he wouldn’t wish upon—

Dorian’s sleepy musings cut off abruptly as his eyes flickered open and focused on his hand, resting on the pillow beside his head. He jolted up then hissed as the skin on his neck and back strained at the action and sent a spike of pain through him. But terror gripped him so thoroughly that he could barely feel it.

The skin on the top of his left hand had turned a blue-gray color and begun to scale and crack.

Gasping out a breath, he cradled his hand to his chest. Would it have to be amputated? But, no, he could still feel it. Trying to calm himself, he focused on moving each of his fingers in turn and, yes, they all worked as they should. But, Maker, what had happened to his skin?

 

Bull woke as the mattress moved beneath him and frowned as he saw Dorian rush over to a mirror he had hung up near his wash basin. In the early dawn light, he couldn’t make out Dorian’s expression but even from the back he could tell that Dorian was scared. A quick check showed there was nothing else, especially nothing demonic, in the room with them and Bull rolled over to light a lamp. “Something wrong? You usually sleep in wh—”

His words died on his lips as Bull moved back to look at Dorian. With the lamp on, he could see Dorian scratching at discolored patches of skin on the back of his hand and arm. “What happened to you?” Stupid question. But Dorian hadn’t looked like that just a few hours ago.

“I don’t know! I don’t know. It won’t come off!”

Dorian was near hysterical and Bull was up off the bed before his mind even caught up with him and he walked over to Dorian. Grabbing his hands to keep him from scratching himself up any more than he had, he pulled Dorian back against his chest. He was shaking, his eyes wide and distant, and Bull mentally cursed before clasping Dorian’s good hand in his own. “Let’s calm down. We can figure this out. Does it hurt?”

Having his hand held seemed to ground Dorian because after a few more too-quick breaths he started to come back to himself. Bull watched as his gaze darted from their hands to the scales on his skin before he flexed the arm. “It’s…tight. And it burns a bit when I move.”

“Shit, alright.” Dorian been through enough over the past few days, he shouldn’t have to add any more pain to the mix. “How much is there?” He took a step back to assess it and Dorian spun around to do the same in the mirror though he never let go of Bull’s hand.

“My hand, my neck, my back…Bull, I—!”

Hearing that sharp tremor flood back into Dorian’s voice, Bull moved close. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” It had to be okay.

“The demon, it’s starting to take over!”

Bull calmly hushed him again. “Easy.”  It was easier to stay calm when Dorian needed him to. “I’m going to go get the Boss and we’ll come up with a plan. Stay here and stay calm.”

It felt wrong to leave Dorian in the state he was in but it would’ve been worse to try to take him with him. Bull made short work of pulling on a pair of pants, his knee brace, and boots, gave Dorian a quick kiss, then hurried from the room.

The tavern was all but abandoned this early in the morning but a few people were already up and getting in an early breakfast. Including a familiar looking face. “Krem!”

His second-in-command looked up from his bowl of oats at the sound of his name but the smile on his lips instantly faded away. He knew him too well.  “What’s wrong?”

“Dorian’s in bad shape. I’m going to get the Boss but while I’m gone, keep an ear out for him. If you hear anything, get up there and do what you have to in order to settle him back down. I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”

Krem frowned, immediately concerned. For as much as he and Dorian argued, most of it was all for show now. They were close and Bull knew that Krem would do everything he could. “You got it, Chief.”

With that, Bull felt better about running across the Keep. And he literally ran. All those stone steps were hard on his knee but there was enough adrenaline running through him to easily block out the discomfort. Dorian needed help, now. He didn’t know how long they had but even a second could make a difference.

The Inquisitor was still in her personal quarters and several guards came running when Bull began to pound on her door. Luckily it didn’t take her long to answer and Bull only had to say a few words before she was telling the guards now loitering about to wake the other members of the Inner Circle. Once the order was given, she turned back to Bull, her expression serious. “Go back to Dorian. I’ll pull some clothes on and meet you there in just a few minutes.” She had raced down in her sleeping clothes which looked a lot like an over-sized tunic, the sort Cullen wore when he trained. Which would’ve been a lot more interesting if there hadn’t been an emergency drawing his attention away from any unnecessary information.

When he was excused, Bull barely took the time to thank her before he was running off again. All he wanted was to get back to Dorian and make sure he was safe.

Bull nearly barreled straight into Krem who rushed from the Herald’s Rest just as he was about to go in. His lieutenant’s eyes were wide, coat partially pulled on. “Chief! Pavus just ran out! I didn’t even hear him come down the stairs and he just ran!” He took a moment to draw a breath and his brows knit together. “He didn’t look right.”

Bull grabbed Krem’s shoulders. “Which way did he go?”

“I just caught sight of him running out the main gate before you got here. He was moving fast but that was just a few seconds ago, he couldn’t have gotten far!”

Shit. “I’m going after him. Let the Boss know what you saw, she should be here in a minute.”

“You need us to come with you?”

“No. I’ve got this.” He didn’t know what he was going to find and he didn’t want to have to choose between Dorian’s and his boys’ safety. 

Knowing he had to prepare for anything, Bull dashed upstairs to his room, grabbed his axe, then rushed back out the door. He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the main gate but he pushed through it. He wasn’t a runner, wasn’t quick like the rouges in their group, but he could move when he needed to and he needed to now.

Krem was right: Dorian had run fast. Bull would have lost him if there hadn’t been new snow last night but as it was his footprints were stamped into the freshly-fallen snow. Dorian’s steps were far apart, as if he’d been sprinting, but there were messy patches of crushed ice interspersed within the footprints where he’d stumbled and fell with long gouges around them were he’d dragged his fingers through the snow to push himself back up. It didn’t look right, didn’t feel right, and the churning in his gut didn’t dissipate any when Bull finally spotted Dorian. He’d come to a stop on a snowbank looking out over one of the many mountain valleys surrounding Skyhold. He was kneeling, hunched over himself, but his attire worried Bull as much as his position. He was dressed in breeches, a long tunic, and boots but he didn’t have any cloak on or gloves or scarves or anything else Dorian Pavus, notorious for wearing winter clothes in the summer, would have donned before running out into the ice.

Bull slowed his pace as he drew closer to him, his last few steps growing cautious. Dorian had his head bowed, his hands bunched up in his sleeves, and there was a feeling of wrongness radiating off of him so strongly Bull could almost taste it. But he couldn’t get a read on exactly what it was that was wrong, and that bothered him the most. His axe weighed heavily in its sheath at his back but Bull didn’t draw it. That’s not how he was going to start things.

“Dorian?”

No response.

“Dorian.”

A twitch this time, a small shudder in his shoulders.

“Dorian, come on. Come back inside.”

“...Bull…”

Something tight loosened just a fraction at the whisper, hushed though it was. “Come back inside. It’s cold.”

“Is it? I can’t feel it.”

“Let’s get back inside and get you warmed up.”

It felt like he was trying to soothe a wounded animal and that feeling only grew stronger as Dorian released a pained gasp and shook his head. “I can’t go back. I’ll hurt someone. Just leave me here.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Look at me. Bull…look at my hands!” Dorian finally looked up, his hands slipping from his sleeves, and if Bull hadn’t had the training he did he would’ve thrown himself back. The scaling had spread to Dorian’s face, the skin on his cheeks and forehead beginning to crack away, and his hands were entirely enveloped, his fingers and nails grown out into sharp, curved claws. “I’m seeing things, hearing things…! I’m becoming it. Soon there won’t be any _me_ left!”

“Dorian...”

Bull stepped forward and it was Dorian who threw himself back, his whole body shaking. “No, I…!”

Bull took another step forward and, before Dorian could run again, he wrapped a hand around his wrist and drew him into a tight embrace. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Dorian struggled against him for only a second before he drew in a shuddering breath and collapsed against Bull’s chest. “You should be.”

His body was as cold as the snow around them and Bull held him tighter. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m afraid I have it figured out.” Dorian’s voice had become painfully neutral. “This won’t end well. It can’t.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. We have time.”

“I don’t think we do. Agh!” Dorian suddenly gave a violent shake, his clawed hands flying up to his face, his palms pressing hard against his temples.

“What is it?”

“My head!” Dorian grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. “Run!…Ah!”

“ _Dorian_!”

Dorian pitched forward and grabbed onto Bull as if to steady himself and Bull was there to catch him. There was a sharp flash of pain and he looked down to see Dorian’s nails clawing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and a gasp punched from him as he looked back up to find two cold, red eyes glaring back at him.

Cursing, Bull threw the demon back and it hissed as it hit the snow, the skin around Dorian’s eyes scaling and cracking. A deep, evil laugh rumbled out, eerily reverberating through the air, and the demon cocked its head to the side and twisted Dorian’s features into a smirk. “ _You’re too late, oxman_.”

That wasn’t Dorian. It wasn’t even his voice. A red veil fell over Bull’s eyes and he pulled his axe up from its sheath as he growled back, “You took him from me!”

The thing laughed again, its hands spasming against the snow as it wrenched control of Dorian’s body. “ _You don’t even know how long I’ve had him. What hurts more? That I’ve taken him or that you were too stupid to notice until it was too late?_ ”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“ _And how much did you really know Dorian?_ ”

“Enough. Enough to know he wouldn’t want to live as your puppet.”

Bull hefted his axe up over his shoulder. He felt part of himself give way, receding back in his mind, but this was different from his reaver state. It was ice cold fear in place of scalding rage. He knew what he had to do.

“ _Why don’t we ask him?_ ”

Bull ignored the demon and with a roar swung his axe down.

“…Bull…”

The broken whisper reached him at the last second and Bull adjusted his swing, the axe embedding itself into the snow-covered earth an inch from Dorian’s head with a dull _thunk_.

Bull’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it; it blocked out whatever weak murmur may have come from Dorian’s cracked lips immediately afterwards but it was for the best. Bull squeezed his eye shut.

It was just the demon fucking with him. It wasn’t real. It was a trick. He couldn’t listen.

“Amatus…?”

Damn it. Fucking demons.

Swallowing, Bull reluctantly opened his eye to find Dorian’s gaze on him. They were Dorian’s eyes: back to his stormy grey, sharp, sparking, but in pain. There was pain too in the tight press of his lips and in the pinch of his brow. “Dorian.” Even as Bull spoke his name he didn’t let himself believe that it was actually Dorian. He couldn’t afford that weakness, and neither could Dorian. But it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do to look down into Dorian’s eyes, so like himself now, and not let himself be swayed from what he knew he had to do. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“I’ve been infested…” He drew in a shaky breath then slowly let it back out. “I’m becoming an abomination…Bull…” He lifted his hand and Bull didn’t have the strength not to take it. His skin—where it was still his skin—was feverish and clammy, but this was no regular sickness that had a hold on him.

Dorian’s eyes softened and Bull brought his hand up to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Easy, Dorian. You can beat this. You’re stronger than that bastard.”

“If it—agh!” Dorian’s back arched as a shock of pain rolled through him, “—If, if it was possible, perhaps I could. But it’s only a matter of time before…before I lose myself entirely.” As he settled back against the snow, he swallowed thickly and met Bull’s gaze again. “I need to ask something…incredibly difficult of you.”

“You’re always difficult.”

The joke sounded strained to his own ears but it earned him a hint of a smile from Dorian. “Not quite like this.” He drew in another long, rattling breath. “Bull…I need you to kill me.”

The chill settled back in Bull’s gut. “What?”

“You were about to. I saw you. I need you to do it. While there’s still something of me left.”

“Dorian—”

“Please. Don’t let me hurt anyone. Please.”

Bull didn’t expect that. What sort of demon would beg to be killed? It was either too smart for Bull or, worse, it really was Dorian. And if it really was Dorian, if he really was still there…Could he do it? Years ago, he could’ve. Shit, even a single year ago he could have. But now, with everything that had happened, from the Inquisition to the Storm Coast to the thing between them that both Bull and Dorian refused to put a name to…Bull wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore to cut down his kadan in cold blood. Though he could promise one thing. “I won’t let you hurt anyone. I promise.”

Dorian’s grip tightened in his. “Including you?”

“Including me. But I’m not ready to give up on you just yet, big guy.”

Dorian’s breath hitched and Bull could tell that he was holding back tears and it nearly broke him all over again. For a moment he thought that maybe Dorian had pulled himself back from the brink. But then his body tensed and he tilted his head back in a silent scream. When the wave subsided, he drew in a sharp gasp. “I don’t have much time. It’s coming back!”

“You keep fighting in there. And don’t worry, even if it comes back I’ll control it and figure out a way to pull it out of you.”

After that, Bull managed to coax Dorian back to the Keep. The man was exhausted, body and spirit, but managed to make his way through the snowbanks on his own power until they had nearly reached the gate. At that point, he was so wracked with pain the he could barely remain upright and Bull swept him up in his arms and carried him the rest of the way to the Main Hall. By the time they arrived, the majority of the Inner Circle was already gathered at one of the banquet tables, the Inquisitor posted at the head of the table and in a heated discussion with Cassandra and Cullen.

Silence fell as they appeared but quickly picked up again as Bull walked inside. He sat Dorian down at the table on the other side of the hall but even from where he was standing he could make out what the others were saying. He doubted Dorian could though. He wasn’t sure Dorian even knew where he was. He almost seemed to be in a trace, slipping in and out of awareness and every other minute giving a violent shudder that scared Bull every damn time, thinking the demon was taking over again.

Varric looked him over from across the room. “Sparkler’s not doing too good…” Bull snorted at that. That was an understatement. Despite his best efforts, Dorian was clearly barely hanging on. He had tucked his hands in his sleeves again but the dark blue-gray scaling on his face and throat was visible above the neckline of his tunic. Varric shook his head, his arms crossing over his chest. “I had a friend back in Kirkwall, a mage, who was possessed. He managed to keep himself human-looking for almost a decade. I assume he still is, just haven’t seen him in a while.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise but before she could answer, Cullen did. “I know who you’re talking about and, if I understood the situation correctly, he was possessed by a Fade spirit. This is a demon.”

“That’s funny, you didn’t make a distinction then.”

“…I’ve changed since then.”

“…Yeah, you have.”

Cole’s voice interrupted their conversation, his words floating on the air, and a second later Bull spotted him standing at the far end of the table he and Dorian were at, his eyes nearly glowing beneath the wide brim of his hat as he gazed down the table at Dorian. “A spirit would not intentionally harm its host. The demon rages and tears at him, breaking him down from the inside out.”

Bull growled at that and they all looked up. No point in pretending he wasn’t listening in anymore. “We need to fix this.” There wasn’t any other option.

Cassandra’s jaw tightened before she gave a brisk nod. “There is only one way I can think of: we must cut off his connection to the Fade.”

Evelyn tilted her head. “How would we do that? He’s a mage.”

Cullen looked stricken, his face drawn up as if in pain, “Cassandra…No. Not Dorian.”

The Inquisitor’s confusion only deepened and she looked over to Cullen then back at Cassandra. “What are you talking about? Cassandra, what do you mean?”

“We make Dorian Tranquil—”

Evelyn gasped, “Absolutely not!”

“—and _then_ we reverse the process through the rites described in my text, the same I used to become a Seeker. Dorian should return to his true self by the end.”

“ _Should_?”

Cassandra scowled then gave a small shrug as she acknowledged the risk. “There is a chance it may not work. That he may remain Tranquil or be driven mad in the process of regaining his connection to the Fade as well as his emotions. But the alternative is more frightening than either option. Cullen, you know better than any here; he doesn’t have much time left.”

Cullen flinched but nodded, his gaze darting to where Dorian was nearly slumped over the table before he had to look away. “I can see that Dorian is fighting but he can’t last much longer as he is. A few hours, if he’s lucky. He’ll be an abomination soon.”

Varric shook his head then looked over at Cole who still seemed confused. “Come on, kid.”

“But shouldn’t we stay?”

Evelyn answered for him, a small, tight smile on her lips. “Go with Varric, Cole. I don’t want you here for this.”

Everyone fell quiet as Varric escorted Cole out of the Main Hall and once they had closed the doors behind them, it was Evelyn who broke the silence. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Cullen nodded. “The War Room. No one will disturb us there.”

Bull had kept quiet during the exchange. He was out of his depth here and trusted the others would come up with as good a plan as could be made. The idea of making Dorian Tranquil was…it didn’t sit right but he knew Cassandra and Cullen both knew what they were talking about. Dorian didn’t have long and if this couldn’t save him, it would at least be a better way to go out than having his body be slowly mutated and torn apart from the inside by a demon.  

At Cullen’s suggestion, they reassembled in the War Room after taking long enough of a break for Cassandra to fetch her Seeker’s tome and for Bull, Cullen, and Evelyn to clear the center of the room. Bull made to pull a chair into the newly-emptied space in the center but Cullen waved him off. “He might hurt himself on it.”

Cassandra returned shortly after, escorting Vivienne in with her book tucked under her arm. Vivienne cast a cool glance around the room but a rare flash of emotion showed as Bull carried Dorian in. “I hadn’t realized he was so far gone.”

Bull nodded. He couldn’t deny it. Dorian was nearly limp in his arms, only able to muster a small shiver and moan as Bull set him down in the center of the room. He couldn’t even keep himself upright so Bull sat down behind him and pulled Dorian back against his chest. His hands moved down to grip Bull’s knees and Bull grit his teeth but didn’t say a thing as his claws dug through his pants.

The others moved around them. Cullen had left the room at some point and returned now with a long iron brand gripped tight in his hand. Bull’s attention immediately zeroed in on it and he subconsciously pulled Dorian closer as Cullen pushed the end of the brand into one of the braziers set around the edge of the room to keep away the chill. Cullen must have known everyone’s eyes were on him, not just Bull’s, and didn’t bother lifting his gaze before speaking. “Madame de Fer, be prepared heal Dorian as soon as he comes back to us so that this won’t leave a scar.”

Vivienne swept forward, her heels clicking on the stone floor as she moved to stand in front of Dorian. Though not too close, Bull noticed. She kept a cautious distance, as if Dorian could turn at any second. Probably because he could. Dorian had started to arch his back against Bull, his legs and arms twisting and when Bull caught a glimpse of his eyes he saw a flash of red. “Of course. He would never forgive me otherwise.” She wasn’t a healer by trade but she was the best Skyhold had that Bull would trust with this.

It didn’t take long for the brand to heat to a glowing red nearly as bright as the demon’s eyes and Cullen grimaced as he pulled it from the coals. “Let’s do this, quickly. We’ve run out of time.” As if in agreement, Dorian growled out an animalistic snarl. “Bull, hold him.” Cullen hadn’t even finished issuing the command before Bull was shifting his grip from comforting to constraining. Dorian had begun to thrash and he could feel the muscles in Dorian’s arms flex and swell. As strong as Bull was, it was a struggle to keep Dorian still. Cullen approached, his face drawn tight and brand in hand, while Evelyn, Cassandra, and Vivienne looked on. Then Dorian’s eyes locked on Cullen and lunged forward with a blood-curdling snarl.

Cullen was ready though and jammed the brand against Dorian’s forehead just as he tore free from Bull’s grasp.

The growl morphed into a scream and energy burst out, throwing Dorian back against Bull and knocking him out cold. Bull quickly reached around and tilted Dorian’s head back so he could see his face. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding rushed from him as he was met with the sight of smooth, tanned skin, save for the ugly sun-shaped burn on his forehead. All signs of demon were gone.

Cullen set the brand down then he, Vivienne, Evelyn, and Cassandra drew close. They all shared a similar sickened expression, though as always Vivienne hid it better than the others, and she reached forward to gently run her manicured fingers down the side of Dorian’s face. “Well done, Commander. Just in time.”

Cullen looked pale but nodded. “Yes. I’ve unfortunately had too much practice. I—” He cut himself off and they all turned to watch when Dorian’s eyes flickered open.

Evelyn leaned forward. “How do you feel?”

Dorian was still for a moment then shifted in Bull’s arms to a more comfortable position. But, there was something wrong in the way he moved. Too methodical, too mechanical. When he spoke, his voice was his own again but it was the same: not quite right. “I don’t feel…anything. The demon is gone. I may be dehydrated.”

Bull frowned as Evelyn pressed on. “Are you in pain?”

Dorian hummed then lifted his arms up to check them, turning his arms and hands this way and that before finding everything to his satisfaction. “Some, though it is not a distraction and it should fade soon. I can still think clearly.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I was aware for the majority of the time the demon was taking over, though within the past several days I have slipped in and out of consciousness, likely not immediately noticeable to you. It was confusing and frightening but it is better now. You’ve made me Tranquil?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Why? You did it to save my life.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest but Cullen shook his head, his arms crossed tight over his chest. “He’s not upset, Evelyn. He doesn’t have the capacity for anger or sadness anymore. Or anything else.”           

Bull knew it was true but it was still hard to believe, even when the proof was literally lying in his arms. He moved a hand to stroke Dorian’s face before he could stop himself and Dorian didn’t pull away from the touch, but neither did he lean into it. If anything, he seemed confused and frowned at Bull’s hands for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “You never liked mages or magic. Would you like me better this way, the Iron Bull?”

“Fuck no.” He answered too quickly but Bull had never been more sure of anything in his life.

“If you no longer find me appealing, you’re free to move on with your affections. There are many other options for you here in Skyhold for sexual gratification.”

“No, I’m not going to—Cassandra, fix him. Now.”

Dorian paused then looked up to where Cassandra was standing beside Cullen. “Tranquility cannot be reversed.”

She was frowning but gave a firm nod. “It can, Dorian. I know how. Your reconnection with the Fade may be a bit...difficult but it is possible.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“Potentially, yes.”

“Then the outcome may not outweigh the risk. It seems unnecessary to risk my life twice in one day. I am healthy enough now, or will be shortly. There is no reason to go through a potentially dangerous procedure.”

Bull tensed and Evelyn shook her head, eyes sad. “You wouldn't have though so an hour ago.”

“But I think so now.” Dorian frowned. “Do I not have a right to change my mind once new information has been presented to me simply because I am Tranquil?”

“No! That’s not what we meant.” Evelyn kneeled in front of Dorian and took his hands—thankfully now back to normal—in hers. “Dorian, you loved your magic. You lived a passionate life. If you don’t have those things, will it really be worth it?”

Her pleas had no effect. “I can continue to live a productive life without magic. I can continue to research magical theory and methods without being able to practice it myself.”

Cullen finally shook his head and rested a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You can’t use emotion to reason with him.”

She wilted and squeezed Dorian’s hands. “I don’t know what I can say to change his mind...”

Behind them, Cassandra had opened her book and was rapidly flipping through the pages. “We cannot force him. He will need to be a willing participant for the ritual to succeed.”

Cullen’s jaw tightened and then his eyes turned back to Dorian. “Dorian, your purpose here with the Inquisition is to be a mage. Without magic, you cannot fulfill your duties here. You’re useless to us.”

“ _Cullen_.” Evelyn’s sharp rebuke snapped through the air but Bull instantly caught on to what Cullen was up to. It sounded cruel but if emotional arguments wouldn’t work, they’d have to appeal to logic.

Bull picked up where Cullen left off. “And you won’t be able to achieve your goals back in Tevinter. Remember? You wanted to improve the lives of your people. They’ll never let you into the Senate if you’re Tranquil. Doubt they’ll even let you keep your Altus title. You won’t be able to do anything.”

Dorian tilted his head and thought for a moment. “I would be more effective as a mage.”

“Yes.”

“And the benefits of being a mage outweigh the risks of the ritual Cassandra wishes to perform?”

Everyone in the room nodded and after another long moment of thought, Dorian nodded. “Alright. Then we should proceed.”

 

Dorian came back with another scream, clutching onto Bull and Cullen who had to help restrain him half-way through the ritual. As his scream subsided, his chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Nearly all the blood had drained from Evelyn’s face. She had held strong throughout but the tears seemed to strike her particularly hard; Bull could relate. “Let’s hope this is temporary.”

“Deep breaths, Dorian.” Moving back, Cullen maneuvered him into Bull’s arms and it seemed to help. Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist, steadying him, and Dorian slumped back against his chest. He was still crying but his breathing was beginning to stabilize. Cullen seemed pleased and nodded up at Vivienne. “Ma’am, his forehead.”

She stepped in, her robes whispering against the floor as she took a knee before them. Dorian instinctively flinched back as Vivienne reached toward the brand on his forehead but she shushed him, her voice gentler than Bull had ever heard it. “Lie still, darling. It will only hurt for a moment more.” As close as Bull was, he could feel a small tingle of static as she drew on the Fade. A pale green light gathered in her palm before she pressed it against the brand. Dorian flinched again but as the healing magic did its job he relaxed again and by the time she was finished even the tears had stopped. “There we are.” Vivienne pulled her hand back and Bull smiled as she revealed Dorian’s forehead. It was free from any signs of burning save for a small, pale scar that curved in a short arc near Dorian’s hairline where the top of the brand had been.

Evelyn leaned in, hovering anxiously over them. “Dorian?” He released a small gasp of acknowledgement and she pursed her lips. “How do you feel?”

“I’m…” Pausing to draw in a breath, Dorian pressed his eyes shut tight before forcing them open again. “I’m frankly feeling tired of people having to ask me that.”

“He’s back!”

As Evelyn cheered, a relieved laugh slipped passed Bull’s lips and he bent down over Dorian to press a kiss against the top of his head. An exhausted smile worked its way onto Dorian’s lips, now dry and chapped but no longer cracked and peeling. “Are _you_ alright?”

It took half a second for Bull to realize that Dorian was talking to him and he grinned. “I am now.”

Cullen was smiling down at them both. “Dorian, I believe you’re the first mage in recent history to have successfully been brought back from being made Tranquil.”

His fingers flew shakily up to his forehead and he laughed. “I’m the first I know of to have survived being physically taken over by a demon as well! Two new accolades to add to my resume.”

“Don’t go bragging about it,” Evelyn teased. “Otherwise, people will start to think you’re indestructible.”

While feeling the place where his brand had been, Dorian noticed the tear tracks on his face and wiped them from his cheeks, Bull using a thumb to sweep away what he missed. “I think I’ll keep the details of this particular mishap to myself. Oh, and Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’ll sit out on the next trip you take to dispatch any demons.”

“Noted.”

“Same here,” Bull rumbled. “I’m done with all this demon shit.”

Dorian laughed again, the sound still a bit weak but growing ever-stronger. “I couldn’t agree more. At least for the next month or so."

“I was thinking forever.”

“Hmph. With our friends? Unlikely.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea stems from the premise that Dorian's father antes up after his attempt to change Dorian through blood magic failed. When Halward requests to meet Dorian at Redcliffe, it's with the intention of possessing him with a demon because at this point he's desperate to give himself the "perfect" heir (even if it's just a Dorian-shaped demon puppet that he can control). After the Inquisitor leaves them alone to continue speaking, Halward takes Dorian into one of the side rooms where the ritual is already set up and Dorian is caught off guard/jumped and can't escape. Dorian and Bull already have a thing going by this point. When Halward succeeds, Bull has to help bring possessed!Dorian back to Skyhold after Dorian almost kills the Inquisitor who finds him (maybe things get out of hand and Halward is knocked out or runs). Dorian's able to fight it off just enough to not become an abomination but that's about all he's able to do. They recruit Cassandra/Cullen/Solas/Cole (dealer's choice) to get the demon to release Dorian (perhaps made possible by the fact that Dorian didn't willingly allow it? Again, dealer's choice). Dorian fights back as much as he can but he's trapped in his head/Fade. And then a happy ending (please!!) with lots of hurt/comfort.
> 
> ++Bull almost kills demon!Dorian but demon brings Dorian back to the forefront just when he's about to and Bull can't make himself go through with it (even though Dorian asks him to).
> 
> https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/91204.html?thread=364751940


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